Torn: Redux and Rewritten
by Angelina K
Summary: Torn is back and being completely rewritten, chapter by chapter. I will finish Book 2 if it's the last thing I do! Tin-Tin realizes what it's like to want something she can't have. Please review if you read. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1: Waves

_Surprised to see me? I am too! I've been away for a long time, four years to be exact. When I first started writing in this fandom, there were only 17 stories in the Thunderbirds category here on . It sure has blown up since then! This story is the rewritten version of one of my most popular, Torn. I have grown as a person, and as a writer, since I started writing it in 2002. Since rereading it, I have decided that I would like to finish it, once and for all. I had so much support from so many people way back when, and I would love it if you would read and review this newer version, whether or not you read the old. I have left the old Torn up, as reading the reviews is so inspiring and helps me get through rough spots in my writing. In this version, you'll find new scenes, more dialogue, and more straightforward descriptions. Some things may stay the same, some may change entirely. I guess you'll just have to read to find out what happens.__  
As always, I write for myself, but I continue writing for my reviewers.__  
Thanks so much for all your support!  
Angelina  
PS: There may be some conflict between tenses in these early chapters. I have re-read and edited them over and over again. I don't usually write in the present tense, but that is how I originally wrote Torn, and I want to stay true to that style. Please forgive any errors of tense until I get back into the swing of things. :)_

* * *

Sometimes we get so caught up in saving other people's lives that we don't get a chance to live our own. True days off are few and far between, and even an afternoon in the pool can never truly be relaxing. The stir stick in Mr. Tracy's drink can light up at any moment, signaling another disaster that needs the aid of the five men in blue.

That afternoon, however, things looked quiet. Mr. Tracy had called his boys to his desk, where I was taking his dictation – as I often did – and suggested an afternoon out in the speedboat with a picnic lunch. The expression on the four handsome faces is identical though their features are so strikingly different. This is a rare occurrence. Even the idea of spending an afternoon in a small speedboat together wasn't enough to quell the prospect of a little freedom.

Mr. Tracy chuckles at the bewilderment of his sons. "John assures me that it has been a quiet morning and he doesn't foresee any problems this afternoon. Even if you are needed, it will be easy enough to call you back if you don't take the boat too far. Grandma's packed some sandwiches and Tin-Tin will go with you."

I look up from the doodles I had been doing on a blank page. "I will?"

"Of course you will. We can finish writing the letter after dinner." He smiles warmly at me.

"Thank you, Mr. Tracy." I stood up, shuffling the pages together into a neat rectangle, my eyes deliberately concentrating on what is in my hands rather than what, or who, is in front of me. Scott, Virgil, and Gordon had gone off to prepare the boat and get the picnic basket from Grandma, but Alan had stayed behind with the intent, I am sure, of accompanying me down to the dock.

"Go, Tin-Tin." I look up then, and Mr. Tracy is giving me a funny look. "I'll put the paper away."

Flustered, unable to keep up with my procrastination, I nod. "Thank you, Mr. Tracy," I say again, stepping away from the desk.

Alan is smiling as he puts his arm around me. "I can't remember the last time I had a day off."

I smile back weakly. "It will be good for all of you." I keep my gaze ahead, not looking at him. "I am going to go and get a sweater. It might be cold once we get out there."

Alan nods. "Okay. I'll come with you." He slips his hand into mine and I am just as quick to slip it out.

"No, it's alright. I'll meet you down there."

He nods once more, and I hope he is not giving much thought to my excuse to have a few moments to myself. He is evidently looking forward to a couple of hours away from the island, but the smile has frozen on his face as he turns away.

We separate, and I head down the hall to my room. Once the door had hissed shut behind me, I let out a long sigh, wondering how I am going to cope with an afternoon with both of them.

The man I have and the man I want are no longer the same person. I grow nervous in the other's presence, and in Alan's I can't help but fall quiet and make up reasons to leave his side. The constant knot in my stomach is already well formed, but I have a feeling it will only grow tighter this afternoon on the boat.

I locate my favourite sweater, taking as long as I can without keeping them waiting too long, and go down to the dock with a fake smile plastered on my face and a forced spring in my step. This afternoon would be a break for them, but for me, it would be even more stressful than the most difficult rescue.

The water was calm that afternoon, and the boat skimmed across it with the ease of a rock thrown from the shore, skipping over the waves. I couldn't focus on anything outside of the boat for long. The speed at which it moves makes me feel sick when I look at the water blurring by beneath us. Eyes glazed over, I stare at the floor, feeling my hair whip about my face hard enough to sting. My thoughts are occupied by the one thing that seemed to take them over more and more these days, and despite the beautiful weather and the laughter of the boys, I can't even fake my cheerfulness anymore.

Alan has said my name twice now but I haven't heard him. He finally sits beside me and snaps his fingers in front of my face. I raise my head, startled. "What?"

He chuckles. "You were on another planet I think."

I have the decency to blush. "Sorry. I'm a bit preoccupied I guess."

"With what?"

I shrug. "Nothing in particular. Just a list of things I need to accomplish in the next few days."

"Now is not the time to worry about this weekend's grocery run to the mainland." He grins but the smile I return is faint.

When he leaves his seat to get another beer from the cooler, my thoughts drift back to where they had been before I was interrupted. The solace of my mind is the only place I can escape to now, as on Tracy Island, there is always somebody around. Even the footsteps outside my room at night as one of the boys walks along the corridor to the kitchen is enough to constantly remind me of their presence.

I wonder how much longer I can keep this to myself. I am sure Alan can see the pain in my eyes and he must have noticed the change in my attitude towards him. If he knew the reason for it, it would break his heart – and shatter our relationship.

I was seventeen when I came to live on the island with my father. Jeff Tracy, multi-billionaire ex-astronaut, was moving his family to a sheltered little place off the coast of Australia and had wanted someone to lend a hand around the house. He and my father had been friends for years, and Mr. Tracy knew he could trust him. Trust was a big issue for Mr. Tracy. Money like his brought about jealousy and betrayal... He needed someone he could not only trust with his possessions, but also with the biggest secret he had never told.

Alan, as the youngest of the brothers, was only a year older than I. I met him for the first time while he was on summer vacation following his first year of university. He was mature compared to the boys I had gone to school with, and he was definitely attractive. My teenage heart immediately fell in love.

Alan had had his fair share of girlfriends, but being stuck on a remote island for the summer meant I was the only female around except for Grandma. He was sweet, and he was funny, and the tension between us was undeniable. I had never been in a relationship before, and those first few months were based on innocence and convenience. No one, us least of all, expected it to last as long as it had.

He knows me too well for me to keep something like this a secret for long. Alan showed me what it meant to feel love, and with my thoughts constantly betraying it, I can only imagine the distant expressions I must have been wearing recently. We have been struggling more than ever to stay close, and I wonder often if these thoughts are genuine or simply related to our tiffs. Alan is stubborn, and he can hold a grudge better than any of his brothers. I have seen that more than anyone, I am sure. Our relationship now seems to be directed by our brains and not our hearts. I long for the passion and tenderness he had shown me when we had first met, but that seemed so long ago now...

Unconsciously, my eyes come to rest on the man proficiently guiding the speedboat over the swells. A vibrant shirt is open over a white tank top and it flaps behind our captain like a leaf on the wind. His soulful russet eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviator glasses but I can picture them shining with a radiance matched only in his smile as he turns a tanned face to Scott, laughing over something his brother has said.

I glance away, feeling my heart pounding in my chest from more than just the sheer speed of the boat.

I want so much, but at the same time, I wonder how much easier it would be if I wanted nothing. My newfound feelings can't find a voice on the off chance that they may be reciprocated, as if they aren't, I will have lost Alan in the process. Suppressing them is almost making me physically sick, and glancing down at the ham and cheese sandwich that has somehow appeared in my hands, I can't even fathom eating.

I look up at Alan, who has torn off a piece of his own sandwich to feed to a sea gull that has landed on top of the cooler. He loses his balance as the boat swerves purposely, and the laugh that accompanies the movement from the one that caused it is something I have played over and over in my mind for hours after. Alan steadies himself against the seat, yelling something I don't hear in the direction of the front of the boat. The bird on the cooler had taken flight as the boat sharply turned and now lands on the vacant seat next to me. I break off a corner of my sandwich and give it to the gull without a second thought. I am not hungry enough to eat it myself. I can feel Alan's eyes on me and I keep my gaze on the bird.

I have everything I have ever wanted – a large family that, even though we aren't related, I feel like I have known my whole life, and a boyfriend who has shown more interest in me than anyone else ever has. Despite our recent disagreements, Alan and I have always been good together. He knows this, and so does the rest of his family. So do I. So why am I constantly plagued with thoughts of his older brother?

For the longest time, Alan was the only one I ever had eyes for. I wanted us to get married and have a family of our own. Despite his usual comments about his duties to International Rescue keeping him from such things whenever we are in the presence of others, I never doubted it would happen someday.

Scott takes control of the boat and Virgil makes his way to the cooler to get himself a sandwich and a drink. The boat sways rhythmically, almost soothingly now that we are no longer going so fast, but I cannot enjoy it. I want to be swallowed up or fall overboard and lose myself in the water. I don't want to feel this way for him; I never did. I feel so terrible for not being satisfied with what I have. Isn't that what happens most often, though? We have all that we desire, but still wish for more than we could hope to obtain.

I love Alan. I know that he loves me. But more than anything, I crave Virgil, and I know that I cannot fulfill that desire without completely destroying what I have with his younger brother. They are so different that I wonder if it is really the man, and not simply the change, that I want so badly. Alan is laid back but temperamental; Virgil is serious but sensitive. Alan can be immensely self-absorbed, and it took him a full week to realize I was limping after Brains and I had moved the desk in his laboratory and I had accidentally dropped it on my foot and broken my toe. Virgil noticed that very afternoon, after Brains had helped me tape it up, and offered to get me painkillers and make me a cup of tea.

This, I believe, may have been the start of it all. The offer had been innocent, but ever since, it has made me feel nothing but guilt.

After giving half of my sandwich to the bird and forcing myself to eat the other half, I look down at the water soaring by beneath the boat. The sun glints off of it, creating a lustrous circle shining brightly in the waves. My mind wanders back to where it has been so often lately, and it is there, and there only, that I can have what I want without destroying what I already possess.


	2. Chapter 2: Rendezvous

Holding the picnic basket, I step off the boat carefully. It is quickly snatched away by Scott, making some offhand comment about chivalry as he bounds up the stairs to the kitchen with a grin. Virgil was refueling the boat while Gordon took the rest of our things inside.

"Let's take the long way around." I glance over my shoulder at Alan, who is no longer wearing his trademark smile. I nod, saying nothing, slowing my pace so that he falls into step beside me.

We are silent for a few moments, as we are still within earshot of the dock. Walking in the direction of the stairs near the roundhouse, I worry about what might be coming next.

"What's going on with you, Tin-Tin?"

"What do you mean?" The innocent act only lasted a second when I saw the look on his face.

"All afternoon you barely said a word. You stared at stuff with that glazed look on your face like Brains gets when he is trying to solve some big problem. Don't try to tell me you enjoyed yourself." He pushes a strand of hair out of his eyes as we walk past the pool, still damp from the spray of the sea.

"I must be coming down with something."

"Bullshit, Tin-Tin!" He startles me with how forcefully he yells the words, and I am sure I wasn't the only one to hear them. It even disturbs the birds in the tree along the path and they immediately take flight to escape the noise.

I pause, unsure of what to say now. "I just have a lot on my mind recently, Alan."

"As helpful as you are to this organization, Tin-Tin, don't try to talk to me about having 'a lot on your mind.' I know what that's like, and even after the worst of rescues, I don't avoid people when they are right in front of me. You wouldn't even look at me when I gave you that sandwich. It's like you weren't even there."

I sigh, knowing I can't tell him why, and until that moment, I hadn't even realized it was he who passed me my lunch.

"This has been happening more and more recently. Ever since I got back from Five last month, you've been dodging me. You look uncomfortable when I put my arm around you. You make excuses – like needing a sweater – in order to get away from me. And don't think I haven't noticed how infrequently..."

"I know, I know," I cut in hastily, knowing exactly what the next words out of his mouth would be. This was the first time he had mentioned my absence in his bed. I knew it would come up, as it had been weeks since I crept into his room in the dark.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Tin-Tin, but I wish it hadn't." His long legs carry him several strides ahead of me then, and he climbs the stairs and enters the lounge before I can even think of a response.

* * *

My room feels like it is nothing but one large shadow. When I was younger, I might imagine monsters lurking in the dark corners, but now, I know that what is making it difficult to breathe has nothing to do with characters of fantasy. My problem is very much real, and it is the reason why I retired early, saying nothing to anyone since dinner.

I stare up at the ceiling, lying on my back on my bed. I am just beginning to sink into what could have been an immensely pleasant daydream when there is a knock at my door. I sit up, and glancing at the clock, I see it is well past midnight. I had been lying in the dark for hours. I clear my throat, and it feels tight and dry, my tongue like sandpaper. "Come in."

The door slides open soundlessly, disappearing into top of the frame. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the hall, is Virgil.

For a moment, I'm afraid I've stopped breathing. I am thankful for the darkness as I lean as casually as possible against the pillows, doing my best to regain the composure he always seems to make disappear.

He presses the button next to the door and it slips back into place. He glances around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. "Hey. I was just on my way to bed and wanted to make sure you were alright."

I can't see his gaze in the dark, but I can feel it. Oh, how I can feel it. "Yes, thank you." I shift slightly on the bed.

"Are you sure? You disappeared so quickly after dinner." He is peering at me worriedly. I can see the crinkle of his brow in the moonlight coming through my lace curtains.

I nod faintly, licking my lips. Before I am even aware of the movement, I have gotten off the bed and made my way to him, vulnerable and completely out of control. It is a new feeling for me. Control is so important in our line of work; control is everything.

"Did you and Alan have a fight?" He looks down at me, still frowning.

I nod again. "Just a small one," I say softly. "We have them all the time now."

"I'm sorry..." I could tell he didn't really know what to say to that.

Perhaps it is the anonymity of the dark, though there are only two of us in the room, or the lateness of the hour, but whatever it is, I can feel courage swelling inside of me. I can't form words, I can't describe what I'm feeling, but the tingle of action is in my arms and rushing to my heart before I can talk sense into myself.

I back him up against the door and he lets out a quiet sound of surprise. I look up, and the confusion is as plain in the dark as it would be in the daylight. I don't know what I'm about to do, and it is evident that he doesn't know either. I've passed the point of no return, and tilt my head up, having to stand on the tips of my toes in order to press my lips against his.

The kiss is timid at first, and I can feel his hands on my shoulders, halfheartedly trying to push me away. I know his protest is insincere as his arms slide around me. It is just as I had dreamed it would be. Running my fingers through his hair, I realize that I am quivering within his embrace.

Neither of us notice the tears until we begin to taste them, and he pulls back. "Why are you crying?" He whispers softly, wiping them away with his thumb.

I am grateful for his arms, afraid my knees might give out with the surge of emotion I am feeling at that moment. "Alan...what about Alan?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

This is a side of him I've never seen, and it sends a thrill through me that I've never felt. I've buried my feelings for months now, and recently they have become so hard to bear that I have worried I might crack beneath their weight. I had never imagined he would return my feelings, and in that instant, I was unwilling to consider the level of convenience that had brought Alan and I together might be playing a part.

I rest my head upon his shoulder sob into the coarse material of his sweater. It itches my face as it absorbs the tears, and he holds me in the embrace of a person that understands. Virgil hugs me tightly, and in the silence, I know that he won't pry for details but will listen when I decide to speak. I already feel so terrible, and the elation of finally living in a moment I have repeatedly played out in my mind takes a back seat to regret.

I try to stop the tears before I lift my head again, all the remorse in the world unable to dampen my desire to kiss him again. He instigates it this time, kissing me harder than before, and I collapse deeper into his arms, hating myself for enjoying what he does to me. I can't prevent the rest of the tears that fall, and he tenderly nuzzles my neck until I can catch my breath. What would Alan do if he knew I was in this position with his brother? Would he hate me as much as I hated myself?

"We can't do this," I murmur finally, barely audible to my own ears. I have to put these feelings to rest before they consume me even more than they already have.

He doesn't answer, his only response another kiss. Feeling him place a soothing hand on my back, softly running the fingers of the other through my hair, I find all my shame slowly melting into a passion unlike any I had ever felt for Alan. I cling to him closely, not wanting to let go.

My emotions are in turmoil and eventually I am too tired from the inner struggle to continue with such fervor. I gently break the kiss and he presses his lips to my forehead reassuringly before pushing the button to open my bedroom door. He's read my mind and I have never been more grateful, and yet so disappointed, to be understood. I watch as he silently disappears, the door closing and leaving me alone in the dark again.


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

The next few days pass quietly. Alan is giving me the cold shoulder, and after what happened with Virgil in my room a few nights previously, it is almost easier to have him ignoring me. Virgil, however, acknowledges me more than usual in the presence of his family. No one comments on it, as the two of us have always been good friends, and it is not particularly unusual behavior. I notice the change and it reassures me that our secret kiss in the darkness of my room wasn't a mistake. Whenever we pass in the hallway, he smiles at me with more than just friendliness, but his patient nature keeps him from doing anything more. I find myself wishing he would make the next move and save me the trouble of finding the right moment, that perfect instant where we are completely alone and run no risk of being caught. This moment has yet to present itself to me, though I wonder if my nerves are keeping me from seeing it.

I wake up one morning to the sound of violent coughing. Even though my bedroom door is shut, I can hear it coming from the kitchen. Alarmed, I put on my robe and slippers and leave my room, fearing it is my father. He's not nearly as strong as he used to be. I follow the sound upstairs and into the dining area. The sight before me is a relief to me in more ways than one.

John is hunched over the table, one hand wrapped around a cup of steaming black coffee. He is coughing into his other hand and acknowledges me with a slight raise of his head. I sit across from him, a safe distance away, and pour myself a mug of tea from the teapot, pushing back the cozy. My father must already be up, prowling around the house to begin the day's chores, as he usually makes the coffee and tea upon rising.

"What are you doing here, John? I thought you weren't scheduled to rotate again for another two weeks." I sip my tea, realizing the answer is obvious. I attempt to hide how grateful I am that Alan will have taken his place in the satellite.

John clears his throat and puts his coffee down. "Being in Thunderbird Five is hell with a cold. Have you ever coughed into a tin can? The sound ricochets through the whole ship." He sneezes and wipes at his red nose with a tissue. "I couldn't take it, already having a sinus headache."

Mr. Tracy enters the kitchen then, putting two slices of toast into the toaster. "John radioed last night to say that his cold had gotten worse. Alan left at about midnight to relieve him. He told me to tell you goodbye."

Yeah, right. I knew Mr. Tracy was trying to be nice about sending my boyfriend into space for an indeterminate amount of time, but I knew full well Alan had marched into Thunderbird Three saying nothing about me. "Thank you," I say quietly anyway, finishing off my tea.

My heart is hammering with amazing strength as I help myself to a bagel from the paper bag on the counter. I butter it and begin to eat in silence, returning to the table. Without Alan around, I could avoid his questions and his probing looks, which he managed to keep up despite ignoring me. The guilt I've become increasingly familiar with in the last few days fills my stomach and I hate to admit to myself how glad I am that he is gone. Even without my feelings for Virgil, Alan and I needed a break. Tensions had been rising steadily between us and I was worried that we'd hit our breaking point if we had another fight.

The hours go slowly. I spend the afternoon helping Brains program Braman to distinguish different tools so that he can assist him in the lab. After dinner, I walk along the beach alone, eventually resting on a lounger by the pool and watching as the setting sun bathes Tracy Island in soft pastels.

A beeping noise brings me out of my thoughts and I glance up towards the lounge. I can hear Alan's voice through the open patio doors and wearily climb the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I enter the lounge and try to appear as if everything is normal, even between us.

"Good evening, Alan."

If he is surprised that I am speaking to him, he doesn't show it. "Good evening, Tin-Tin. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye." He gives me a small smile, and I wonder how much of it is for his father's sake, as Jeff is seated at his desk. It is his usual position when any of the portraits in the lounge begin to blink.

"It's no matter, Alan. I hope John gets better soon." I sit down beside the chess table and absently pick up a magazine as Jeff and Alan resume their conversation about a forest fire in the Serra do Mar hills of Brazil. I pretend to read, but the words blur in front of my eyes and eventually I give up, raising my head to listen.

"It doesn't seem to be endangering anyone at the moment, father, but I've been following it for the last few hours and fire crews are doing all they can to put it out. The Imigrantes highway is closed and it seems to be under control for the moment."

"Keep us updated, Alan. If it spreads any further than it has already, it could hit Sao Paolo by morning."

"Of course. Goodnight, father." Conversational communications between Thunderbird Five are always kept short when they were on the main frequency.

"Goodnight, Alan." Jeff rises from his desk, picking up the empty glass of scotch he had poured for himself after dinner.

Alan closes the connection without saying anything to me, though I know I had still been in his line of vision. I stand also, silent as I leave the magazine on the coffee table and head out onto the balcony.

I am alone for nearly ten minutes before I detect someone else's presence. I can smell his cologne and know immediately who it is without turning. He rests his arms on the railing, following my gaze towards the sunset, and says nothing.

After a few moments, I feel his weight shift ever so slightly nearer to me. "Want to go for a walk?" He asks softly.

I nod and follow him down the steps towards the beach, leaving my shoes on the bottom stair, feeling the sand compress beneath my feet and squeeze between my toes.

We walk quietly, neither of us wanting to speak and not feeling the need to. The waves against the shore, shining silver in the moonlight, make the evening seem all the more romantic. This is nothing more than a passing thought due to my apprehension, and, noticing my uneasiness, he offers his hand discreetly as we are still within sight of the villa. I take it and raise my eyes to the sky, knowing that somewhere up above, Alan is sitting solitary in Thunderbird Five, unaware of what is going on while he is away.

Halfway down the beach, he stops. I come to a halt next to him, my surprise only lasting a split second before I feel his warm lips on mine. It is the only time we have had to be truly alone in the last few days. I savour the kiss, forgetting my thoughts of Alan. He found the moment – in fact, he created it, and I am grateful for his comforting arms.

We're startled by a loud sneeze and instantly part. I drop Virgil's hand, as his fingers had still been entwined with mine, and we both stare up at the villa. John coughs, his eyes closed, before going inside to get a glass of water. While he had been looking in the other direction, towards the Roundhouse, his eldest brother had been, and still is, staring hard in ours. I glance quickly at Virgil and step further away from him, afraid we have been discovered. I can see the anger on Scott's face from the beach and know he has seen us.

We start back towards the house, more than two feet of space between us, and pick up our shoes on our way up the stairs. We are both reluctant to enter the house, knowing Scott is not the type to fear confrontation. Virgil gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before we part, splitting up instinctively so that Scott can only catch one of us at a time.

Unfortunately, it's me.

He's waiting for me in the hallway. I try to walk past him towards my room, but he throws out an arm and blocks my way, his palm pressed against the opposite wall. I'm forced to stand facing him, attempting to be calm as he glares at me. Those blue eyes smoldered like a campfire when he was mad.

"How long, Tin-Tin?" He growls, voice low.

"What do you mean, Scott?" My mouth is set in a firm line.

He ignores my attempt at playing dumb. "How long?"

I sigh softly, looking down at my feet. The top of one foot is still covered with sand. "Only a few days."

"Does Alan know about this?"

My head snaps up and I glower at him. "What do you think?" It takes all my self-control not to scream at him for asking so dense a question. "Of course not." I know my defensive behavior is only an attempt to hide my remorse over the situation, and I get the feeling that he knows it too.

Scott's tone is soft but menacing. "I hope the pain you are going to cause my little brother is worth it to you, Tin-Tin. He's going to be an absolute wreck when he finds out you've been cheating on him with Virgil."

"I... I know, Scott. It's all I've been able to think about."

He scoffs. "Evidently not. I'm sure you weren't thinking of Alan down on the beach a moment ago, or if you were, you really ought to reconsider this affair."

I fall silent then, unable to come up with an answer to that.

"You need to tell Alan the truth, and you need to do it soon if you intend to continue with Virgil." Scott drops his hand from the wall, lowering his arm, my way no longer blocked.

I know he's right. The damage has already been done, and someone else knowing about it seems to make my betrayal all the more real. I feel heartless and cold, ready to drop the man I had spent the last several years with for the prospect of someone new. "I don't know what to do, Scott."

"You're on your own, Tin-Tin." He turns and walks away from me after casting a final threatening look in my direction.

Scott is nearly a second father to his brothers, having helped to raise them after their mother died. He is immensely protective, and I am surprised that I had not felt more of his wrath. I had heard stories of his temper, often pushed to the max after a rescue, and was relieved he was giving me a chance to rectify the situation without threatening to tell Alan for me.

I continued down the hall in the opposite direction, believing that I could at least put the inevitable off for another few weeks while Alan was in Thunderbird Five. It would give me more than enough time to think about what I would say, provided Scott kept his mouth shut.


	4. Chapter 4: Reassurance

_Thanks so much to those of you that have reviewed so far. Please keep it up and I'll keep posting as I continue writing. :)  
Angelina_

* * *

It's nearly midnight when the call comes through. I hear Jeff's hurried but relaxed footsteps in the hall, making his way to the lounge where I know the portrait of Alan will be flashing its eyes insistently. I wait a few moments before putting a robe over my nightgown. I hadn't been sleeping; I hadn't slept much at all lately.

I find I am the last to join the crowd in the lounge. Even my father is there before I arrive, and he slips past me to put a pot of coffee on in the kitchen.

"The fire in Brazil is still raging, father. The local fire department can't contain it, and their equipment is unable to cope with the blaze. I expect it to be a straightforward procedure. The outskirts of Sao Paolo have been evacuated, so there are no people directly in danger, but if we can help, we should," Alan says to Mr. Tracy, who is, as always, seated at his desk.

Alan is still in full uniform, unusual for him this late at night. I know his habits almost better than my own. He must have become engrossed in an online game of chess or the newest racecar magazine to not have changed into sweatpants, as his father has finally relaxed about the Thunderbird Five dress code. When in space, John and Alan can wear what they like after eleven at night. I still do not understand the reasoning behind the uniform when both men are disembodied voices to anyone outside the organization, but Mr. Tracy is strict with his rules when it comes to International Rescue.

Mr. Tracy nods as my father brings him a steaming mug of coffee, black, just the way he likes it. "Alright, Alan. Scott will get in touch when he is airborne to get the exact coordinates of the fire. He can brief Virgil on the best plan of action when he reaches Brazil." Mr. Tracy turns to Virgil as Scott disappears through the rotating wall. "Take the fire fighting equipment and an extra stock of Firefly's shells. Gordon, go load the pod and meet your brother in Thunderbird Two."

"FAB, father," Virgil and Gordon say in unison. They waste no time then, Gordon entering the hangar from the concealed door down the hall and Virgil tipping upside down to enter Thunderbird Two from the lounge.

I catch his eye briefly as the mechanisms in the wall start to whir, and then he is gone. The sickening dread that always fills my stomach returns immediately, though Alan has assured his father that it should be basic procedure. Virgil and Scott probably won't even have to leave their craft. Regardless, I worry about wayward winds, flames with a mind of their own...

Mr. Tracy will spend the next several hours at his desk, waiting for the safe return of his sons. I know his coffee is spiked, as it always is in these situations, and my father no longer asks if he wants the shot. It is as routine as Scott's liftoff in Thunderbird One. I linger in the lounge for a few more moments, hearing about the attempts of the local fire crews to extinguish the fire.

The ground trembles beneath my slippers as Thunderbird One launches from beneath the pool and Alan turns his attention to his eldest brother. Mr. Tracy will keep the connection open, listening to the transmissions from Scott, Virgil and Alan throughout, silently following every move they make and imagining it in his head. He only interjects when it is necessary, sitting at his desk nodding absently as he sips cup after cup of coffee. I watch him, wondering, as always, how he maintains his cool. I've never heard him lose it during a rescue.

I stay nearby for a while, listening to the transmissions until Virgil has arrived on scene and the boys have worked out a plan. Gordon would position himself in the upper compartment of Thunderbird Two and Virgil would open the roof so his younger brother could shoot the heat-activated shells from Firefly over the side. When the temperature reached a certain level, they would burst open and release streams of flame-retardant foam that could cover several square metres. Scott would set Thunderbird One down and explain their intent to the local firefighters, who were making failed attempts to extinguish the fire using helibuckets full of water from the nearby sea, while Virgil and Gordon flew above the smoldering trees, dropping shell after shell from the craft.

"Tin-Tin?" Mr. Tracy looks up at me as my father pours him another cup of coffee. "Would you please go and get John?"

I nod, knowing Scott will need his brother's impeccable language skills to communicate with the firefighters. John had been in the lounge a few hours before, but had almost immediately gone back to the Roundhouse, his quarantine of sorts, and back to bed.

He is not particularly happy when I rouse him from his heavy, cold-induced sleep, but he knows what is required of him, putting on a robe and following me back to the lounge.

"The transmission is open, John." Mr. Tracy explains to him what Virgil and Gordon have already started to do, and gives up his spot at his desk so his blond son can translate it into Portuguese.

"You there, Scott?" John seats himself at the desk, leaning towards the golden microphone in the corner.

"Reading you loud and clear, John. The fire chief is here with me, his name is Mr. Angra."

John took that as his cue, and in carefully pronounced Portuguese, he began to explain the plan to Mr. Angra over the radio.

The response comes back rapidly, and even John struggles to understand it in Mr. Angra's strong Mineiro accent. From his tone alone, I can tell he is very grateful for International Rescue's response.

"John?" Scott is on the radio again.

"I'm still here. How's it going?"

"The shells seem to be working. Virgil tells me Gordon has given up using the gun and is now chucking them over the side of Thunderbird Two so they land straight below them."

"Easier to aim that way, I suppose," John answers, smiling slightly as he conjures up the same mental image I have of Gordon throwing the football-shaped shells blindly out of the big green craft. From inside it, he won't be able to see over the top. The shells are heavy, but they aren't particularly big, the foam so tightly compressed within them that it doesn't require much space. It would take a lot of the little shells to put out a fire as big as the one they were fighting from the air just then.

"Gordon had three hundred shells on board and the fire brigade is still using their helibuckets to keep the fire from spreading. With our combined efforts and every single one of those shells, we should be able to get the fire down to a level where the helicopter pilots can put it out on their own if we can't extinguish it entirely," Scott says.

"FAB, Scott." Mr. Tracy returns to his desk and John stands, allowing his father to return to his seat of command behind it.

John excuses himself and returns to the Roundhouse to get a few more hours of sleep, still looking pale with sickness.

Hours later, I am awakened by the sound of Thunderbird One's return, the pool she hides beneath very near to my room on the bottom floor of the villa. Thunderbird Two will not be far behind as Scott always runs his craft at half-speed on the way home to fly side by side with Virgil and discuss the rescue. I have a feeling that tonight's conversation over the radio was probably not as congenial as it usually is.

From the footsteps I can hear in the kitchen above my room, I know Thunderbird Two has now returned and the boys are helping themselves to food and coffee before they debrief. Unless an unexpected problem arose, Mr. Tracy will keep it short as his sons have been awake all night.

Evidently, there were no complications, as I hear the footsteps dispersing in the hallway upstairs. Three sets of blue boots are heavy on the carpet, their heels solid and the toes made of steel. They are not the type of footwear one can creep about in.

I am not surprised when I hear the quiet knock on my door. I had heard a pair of those blue boots coming down the stairs to the floor that my father and I share with Brains' laboratory and Grandma's rooms.

"Come in," I call softly, sitting up in bed.

It is barely eight o'clock in the morning, and my sleep has been restless, but I do not look half as exhausted as Virgil when he opens the door. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

I shake my head. "No, not at all. Come in," I repeat as he is still standing in the doorway. Virgil hits the button and the door closes itself tightly behind him. "How did it go?"

"Fine. It's nice not to have to save people every once in a while." He smiles faintly, sitting on the edge of my bed. "We were able to get the fire under control and then the Sao Paolo fire department finished the job. Last I heard from Alan, the smoke is almost unbearable, but the fire has been extinguished and isn't a threat to the city anymore."

I return the small smile. "I'm glad. And Scott… was he okay with you while you were out?"

He nods. "Scott is nothing if not professional during rescues. He is the only one of us that doesn't let his emotions influence his decisions."

"Perhaps that is why he mans Mobile Control."

"Yes, that's why. The return flight, though… that was interesting." He shakes his head. "He didn't say anything about us, as I had Gordon with me, but he got more terse with every sentence."

"I was afraid of that." I knew what Scott was like. When he was angry, the entire island knew it, including every species of animal and bird that inhabited it. The fact that he had hid it for the duration of the rescue was even more of a credit to his professionalism.

"He completely ignored me during our debrief. I have a feeling I'll be getting an earful soon enough."

"I already have," I sigh, plucking at my quilt with my fingers absently.

He raises an eyebrow. "Before we left?"

I nod. "He cornered me in the hall. He's not exactly pleased with me."

"Don't worry about him, Tin-Tin. He's just overly protective of Alan because he's the youngest. But this has nothing to do with Scott." He puts his hand over mine. "It has everything to do with us."

"And Alan." My expression is grave as I think of him again, all alone in Thunderbird Five while his beloved Tin-Tin is falling for his brother behind his back.

He grimaces slightly. "Yes, and Alan." A sudden notion crosses his mind. "You are going to tell him about us, aren't you?"

"Of course. When Alan returns, I'll tell him."

That answer seems to satisfy him, and he rewards me with another small smile. "I'll be there if you want me to be."

I shake my head. "No, Virgil. This is my doing, and it is something I'll have to handle on my own."

"If you're sure."

I nod my head affirmatively. "I'm sure. With everything Alan and I have been through… I have to be the one to tell him." I knew Scott would personally make sure I did.

"We'll get through this, Tin-Tin." He leans over, hand still on mine, and kisses me reassuringly.

I sigh quietly as I return the kiss, wishing I could be as sure as he seems to be… about us, about everything.


	5. Chapter 5: Calamity

_Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews! Unfortunately, I will be without internet access for most of June, so chances are no updates will be done until at least the end of the month. I hope you don't mind being patient and enjoy this chapter with my apologies :)  
Angelina_

* * *

Wednesday is shopping day on Tracy Island. Grandma and whoever happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time head to the mainland to stock up for the week. No one likes grocery shopping, mainly because the amount of supplies needed to keep the island going – and the people on it – is a lot to carry back. The trip takes hours. Even though the biggest shop happens at the end of the month, perishable items like fresh vegetables, bread, milk and cheese have to be constantly replenished.

This morning, I manage to dodge Grandma, nearly spilling my tea in an effort to avoid crossing her path. It's not that I don't like helping Mrs. Tracy; she's a lovely woman, and the stories she tells of her son and her grandsons are always worth listening to. No, I like to give her a hand in the kitchen or in the garden or with her crossword… but when it comes to the weekly trip to the mainland, count me out.

I head back down the hall towards Brains' lab to see what our resident scientist is up to this morning. He's still working with Braman, who has learned the basic tools, but now needs to know how to tell them apart.

"Need any help, Brains?"

He shakes his head, forehead wrinkled in concentration behind those big blue glasses. "N-No thank you, Tin-Tin."

Having finished my tea, I put my empty mug down on the work bench. "How are you going to get him to tell the difference between a hammer and a wrench?"

"I am p-programming Braman to recognize the d-difference in ah, weight. If I always use the s-same tools, he will be able to hand them to me when I a-a-ask for them." Brains put a hammer into Braman's robotic hand and had his computer system calculate the exact weight of the tool down to the nearest gram. He scribbles something down on a notepad and began to do the same with the rest of the tools.

I watch for a few moments before a loud noise startles both of us. Someone upstairs is yelling, and loudly, too. Brains' lab is nearly air tight in case of an emergency or a chemical spill, but with the door slightly open from where I had recently entered, the voices drifted down from upstairs.

Or, I suppose I should say, the _voice_ drifted down from upstairs.

It was Scott's, and even though I couldn't make out every word as he must have been behind his bedroom door, even Braman would have been able to tell he was livid - and Braman hasn't grasped the concept of emotions yet.

I left Brains' lab and shut the door tightly behind me, not wanting Brains to hear the argument. I walk slowly into the kitchen and put my empty mug in the sink, listening to what words I am able to hear. I wince at what I can make out: 'betrayal,' 'heartbroken' and various swear words seem to occur more than once.

My father is, thankfully, out in the garden, Grandma has dragged Gordon with her to the mainland, John is still in his makeshift quarantine in the Roundhouse, and Mr. Tracy has gone for his usual morning stroll around the island.

Scott has chosen his moment to explode perfectly. No one but I was around to hear him as he chews Virgil out, barely giving him a chance to get a word in.

I can do nothing but stand in the lounge, my feet frozen to the floor. I am only slightly grateful when Virgil's level voice joins his brother's, finally overriding it. It is less forceful than Scott's, and I am unable to hear anything he says, though his tone reverberates towards me.

Half of me wants to storm down the hall and break up the fight, but whereas Scott is passionate and fierce in arguments, I know Virgil is usually the opposite. Very few things can make him lose his temper, and even in this instance, he still seems to have a hold on it.

When Scott next replies, he is no longer shouting, but still speaking in a raised voice. It gets lower and lower until I am unable to hear it anymore. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, I realize I should get out of the lounge before they part ways, sure being caught eavesdropping was not going to help the situation.

Quietly but quickly running down the stairs, I return to my room, hoping I can pretend I have been there all along. I know Virgil will come find me soon enough, as, with Grandma and Gordon gone, we had planned to eat breakfast together this morning. Our chances of being alone for even a few minutes are best on Wednesdays with Grandma and her unlucky grocery minion making two less people buzzing around the villa.

As predicted, a knock sounds on my door only a few minutes later.

"Come in," I call, having settled in the easy chair in the corner to read some more of a romance novel I had started a few days ago.

"Good morning." Virgil smiles like he hasn't just been subjected to Scott and his temper.

I leave the book on the chair and cross the room to kiss his cheek. "Good morning to you too."

"Breakfast?"

I nod. "If you feel like going back upstairs so soon."

"Oh… you heard?"

I nod again. "Yes, it was hard not to."

He sighs. "Sorry, Tin-Tin. Scott can get pretty loud when he's angry."

"What did he say to you?"

He presses the button on the wall and the door shuts with a hiss. "Probably the same thing he said to you. That I was betraying my baby brother and getting into the middle of a relationship that's lasted longer than International Rescue." Virgil runs a hand back through his hair, fingers coated in gel when he removes them. He makes a face and wipes them off on his jeans, and I know he's mentally reminding himself to stop doing that.

"That's the problem, though. I fear Alan and I have stayed together for the same reason – it's just always been that way. The whole time we've lived on this island, we've been a couple. We've grown, and grown apart. I don't feel the same way about him as I used to."

"Scott… well, he mentioned something that made me think." I can feel myself frowning as he continues. "It was about transferable affection. I'm not insinuating anything, Tin-Tin, but it's something we should both consider. I am around a lot more than Alan because I don't spend any time in the space station. I… I guess I want to make sure that you're not just… replacing him with me because I'd be the next best thing."

I shake my head wildly. "Of course that's not the case!" I am hurt that he would even think it, but even I have to admit that it would be a reasonable explanation for my feelings towards him. "Alan and I aren't as close as we used to be, and we've been bickering a lot lately. We never used to do that."

"I know, Tin-Tin, but every relationship goes through rough patches."

"It's not a rough patch." I can feel myself getting defensive now. "Alan and I came to an end a long time ago – we were just afraid to let go."

He nods thoughtfully, eyes on mine. "Alright, Tin-Tin."

I blink, looking up at him. "What? That's it?"

"If you say it's entirely over with you and Alan, then I believe you. If you say that I'm not just the target of your affections now because I'm here and he's not, I'll believe that too." He smiles faintly.

I let out a sigh of relief and pull him down for a lingering kiss. "Thank you, Virgil."

He puts his arms around me. "Now, how about breakfast?"

* * *

Nearly a week later, my first few hours of true uninterrupted sleep in far too long are disturbed by a silhouette leaning over me. I blink my eyes open, inwardly praying that I am still asleep. Feeling a very real hand on my shoulder, I realize I'm definitely awake, though the soft whisper of my name keeps me from being disappointed.

Virgil's poking me teasingly now, knowing I'm awake, and I groan, putting my forearm over my eyes.

I feel my duvet being pulled back and then I'm in the air, letting out a shriek of bleary surprise before I find myself settled rather comfortably in his arms. I yawn into Virgil's chest, my arms sliding around his neck as he climbs the stairs towards the lounge.

I'm still half asleep as he opens the door and steps out onto the balcony, gently putting me down at the rail next to him. On the horizon, the sun is just beginning to rise and its brilliance sprays colour in every direction, a gorgeous mosaic of gold and red. I lean against Virgil, feeling his arm around my waist as we both gaze at it, alone for the first time in what feels like forever.

"Sometimes I wish you didn't live with your family," I say quietly, smiling. He chuckles and agrees, stating teasingly that he is far too old to still be living with his father.

All week we have been forced to keep our exchanges casual and short, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves. If Virgil is in the lounge, Scott will immediately be there too, as if attempting to force our relationship into the ground. Though he barely speaks to either of us, he keeps us from speaking to each other. Scott brushes past him in any confined space without a word and they don't meet each other's eyes in the lounge. Mr. Tracy has been staring curiously at Scott these last couple of days. They are so close that it's more than unusual for Scott to be giving his second eldest the silent treatment.

Despite it all, no one else seems to know about Virgil and I. If I had it my way, Scott wouldn't know either. Soon Mr. Tracy will confront him about his behavior. Scott is smooth, but he is not a very good liar, and it is unlikely he would lie at all for us.

The sun has risen over the hilltop on the island, rays peeking through the palm leaves at the very crest. I yawn again, knowing the others will soon be rising. I wish desperately that I could freeze time. Brains may be a genius, but time is one thing even he cannot manipulate.

A sharp wind blows from the sea and I shiver, my nightgown doing little to protect me from it. Virgil notices and leads me back inside, closing the patio door behind us.

"How long do you figure we have?" He asks as we stand facing each other.

"Father is always the first up," I answer, looking at the clock on Mr. Tracy's desk. It is old fashioned and has little metal hands with fancy arrows on the end. It is 5:50. "He sets his alarm for six."

"Ten minutes isn't a lot of time."

"We'll have to make the most of it then, won't we?" I smile slyly, standing on the tips of my toes to kiss him. I whine teasingly about the height difference, certainly not minding the effort it takes to reach his warm lips.

He pulls back and my eyes follow him, disappointed, until I realize what he intends to do. He clears a corner of his father's desk, putting some documents on the chair, and then helps me up onto it so we are almost level.

"Better?" He grins, running a hand down my neck.

I shudder slightly, aware of how little my nightgown covers as his fingers brush over my collarbone. "Much," I murmur, adjusting my weight to lean closer and reach his mouth again. Something digs into my thigh, but the slight discomfort is nothing to me now.

After a few moments, we break apart, breathless.

"You know," I begin thoughtfully, "a lot of couples spend time talking."

"What is there to talk about?" He moves in to kiss me once more, but I place a firm hand on his chest to keep him from his goal.

"Well, surely there must be something you don't know about me."

"Tin-Tin, I think I know everything."

"Do you?" I am enjoying the desperate look in his eyes.

He ignores me and I finally surrender to his inviting kisses.

Too soon, I hear the grandfather clock begin to chime the hour.

"Father will be here soon," I breathe, glancing over my shoulder towards the hallway.

"I think we need a nice, relaxing vacation…" He punctuates the idea with a kiss on my forehead. "Away from the island, away from everyone…" And another tender brush of his lips on my nose.

"How would we pull that off without people figuring out we want to be alone?"

He shrugs. "I guess it will have to wait until we tell everybody, including Alan."

"You don't have to tell me anything."

I start violently at the voice, nearly hitting Virgil in the head as I do. I look frantically around the room, hearing the pain in the words said by such a familiar voice. Virgil has turned and I follow his gaze, my eyes landing on the row of portraits along the wall behind him. I gasp as I see Alan's has been replaced with a live feed from Thunderbird Five.

"You might want to be careful with that row of buttons on dad's desk, Tin-Tin. You don't want to accidentally sit on one and call me, do you?" Alan's eyes are like ice, and I can see the glacial tears forming in the corners as he stares at me.

"Alan… Alan, I…" I'm at a loss for words, feeling my sadness and guilt immediately resurfacing.

"Don't bother explaining." His words cut me like a nice. Sweet, compassionate Alan has turned bitter, his face expressionless on the screen. His stare is unwavering.

"Please let us clarify ourselves, Alan," Virgil steps in calmly.

"There's nothing to _clarify_, Virgil," Alan spits out. "Obviously things have been going on while I've been away and you've been using it to your advantage that I'm not there." He blinks and I can see he is crumbling even more with every word.

Seeing him like this is tearing me apart. I knew it would be difficult to tell him what had happened between Virgil and I, but I never expected it to hurt this much to see his reaction.

"You don't understand," I plead feebly.

"I do understand, Tin-Tin, that's where you're wrong. I understand perfectly." He looks off to his right and appears to be distracted by one of Thunderbird Five's instruments. I know he is collecting himself. He fixes his condemnatory gaze back upon us. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you know how much dad hates us using the main frequency. Someone might be trying to call."

The portrait reappears as he signs off and I stare at the painted blue eyes, helpless.


End file.
